<DOC>
<DOCNO>SHK-MOV-III-I</DOCNO>
<title>ACT III

SCENE I	Venice. A street.</title>

	[Enter SALANIO and SALARINO]

<speaker>SALANIO</speaker>	Now, what news on the Rialto?

<speaker>SALARINO</speaker>	Why, yet it lives there uncheck'd that Antonio hath
	a ship of rich lading wrecked on the narrow seas;
	the Goodwins, I think they call the place; a very
	dangerous flat and fatal, where the carcasses of many
	a tall ship lie buried, as they say, if my gossip
	Report be an honest woman of her word.

<speaker>SALANIO</speaker>	I would she were as lying a gossip in that as ever
	knapped ginger or made her neighbours believe she
	wept for the death of a third husband. But it is
	true, without any slips of prolixity or crossing the
	plain highway of talk, that the good Antonio, the
	honest Antonio,--O that I had a title good enough
	to keep his name company!--

<speaker>SALARINO</speaker>	Come, the full stop.

<speaker>SALANIO</speaker>	Ha! what sayest thou? Why, the end is, he hath
	lost a ship.

<speaker>SALARINO</speaker>	I would it might prove the end of his losses.

<speaker>SALANIO</speaker>	Let me say 'amen' betimes, lest the devil cross my
	prayer, for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew.

	[Enter SHYLOCK]

	How now, Shylock! what news among the merchants?

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	You know, none so well, none so well as you, of my
	daughter's flight.

<speaker>SALARINO</speaker>	That's certain: I, for my part, knew the tailor
	that made the wings she flew withal.

<speaker>SALANIO</speaker>	And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird was
	fledged; and then it is the complexion of them all
	to leave the dam.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	She is damned for it.

<speaker>SALANIO</speaker>	That's certain, if the devil may be her judge.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	My own flesh and blood to rebel!

<speaker>SALANIO</speaker>	Out upon it, old carrion! rebels it at these years?

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	I say, my daughter is my flesh and blood.

<speaker>SALARINO</speaker>	There is more difference between thy flesh and hers
	than between jet and ivory; more between your bloods
	than there is between red wine and rhenish. But
	tell us, do you hear whether Antonio have had any
	loss at sea or no?

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	There I have another bad match: a bankrupt, a
	prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on the
	Rialto; a beggar, that was used to come so smug upon
	the mart; let him look to his bond: he was wont to
	call me usurer; let him look to his bond: he was
	wont to lend money for a Christian courtesy; let him
	look to his bond.

<speaker>SALARINO</speaker>	Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take
	his flesh: what's that good for?

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	To bait fish withal: if it will feed nothing else,
	it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, and
	hindered me half a million; laughed at my losses,
	mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my
	bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine
	enemies; and what's his reason? I am a Jew. Hath
	not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs,
	dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with
	the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject
	to the same diseases, healed by the same means,
	warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as
	a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed?
	if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison
	us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not
	revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will
	resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian,
	what is his humility? Revenge. If a Christian
	wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by
	Christian example? Why, revenge. The villany you
	teach me, I will execute, and it shall go hard but I
	will better the instruction.

	[Enter a Servant]

Servant	Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his house and
	desires to speak with you both.

<speaker>SALARINO</speaker>	We have been up and down to seek him.

	[Enter TUBAL]

<speaker>SALANIO</speaker>	Here comes another of the tribe: a third cannot be
	matched, unless the devil himself turn Jew.

	[Exeunt SALANIO, SALARINO, and Servant]

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	How now, Tubal! what news from Genoa? hast thou
	found my daughter?

<speaker>TUBAL</speaker>	I often came where I did hear of her, but cannot find her.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	Why, there, there, there, there! a diamond gone,
	cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfort! The curse
	never fell upon our nation till now; I never felt it
	till now: two thousand ducats in that; and other
	precious, precious jewels. I would my daughter
	were dead at my foot, and the jewels in her ear!
	would she were hearsed at my foot, and the ducats in
	her coffin! No news of them? Why, so: and I know
	not what's spent in the search: why, thou loss upon
	loss! the thief gone with so much, and so much to
	find the thief; and no satisfaction, no revenge:
	nor no in luck stirring but what lights on my
	shoulders; no sighs but of my breathing; no tears
	but of my shedding.

<speaker>TUBAL</speaker>	Yes, other men have ill luck too: Antonio, as I
	heard in Genoa,--

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck?

<speaker>TUBAL</speaker>	Hath an argosy cast away, coming from Tripolis.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	I thank God, I thank God. Is't true, is't true?

<speaker>TUBAL</speaker>	I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the wreck.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	I thank thee, good Tubal: good news, good news!
	ha, ha! where? in Genoa?

<speaker>TUBAL</speaker>	Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, in one
	night fourscore ducats.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	Thou stickest a dagger in me: I shall never see my
	gold again: fourscore ducats at a sitting!
	fourscore ducats!

<speaker>TUBAL</speaker>	There came divers of Antonio's creditors in my
	company to Venice, that swear he cannot choose but break.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	I am very glad of it: I'll plague him; I'll torture
	him: I am glad of it.

<speaker>TUBAL</speaker>	One of them showed me a ring that he had of your
	daughter for a monkey.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	Out upon her! Thou torturest me, Tubal: it was my
	turquoise; I had it of Leah when I was a bachelor:
	I would not have given it for a wilderness of monkeys.

<speaker>TUBAL</speaker>	But Antonio is certainly undone.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	Nay, that's true, that's very true. Go, Tubal, fee
	me an officer; bespeak him a fortnight before. I
	will have the heart of him, if he forfeit; for, were
	he out of Venice, I can make what merchandise I
	will. Go, go, Tubal, and meet me at our synagogue;
	go, good Tubal; at our synagogue, Tubal.

	[Exeunt]

	THE MERCHANT OF VENICE


</DOC>
<DOC>
<DOCNO>SHK-MOV-III-II</DOCNO>
<title>ACT III

SCENE II	Belmont. A room in PORTIA'S house.</title>

	[Enter BASSANIO, PORTIA, GRATIANO, NERISSA, and
	Attendants]

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	I pray you, tarry: pause a day or two
	Before you hazard; for, in choosing wrong,
	I lose your company: therefore forbear awhile.
	There's something tells me, but it is not love,
	I would not lose you; and you know yourself,
	Hate counsels not in such a quality.
	But lest you should not understand me well,--
	And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought,--
	I would detain you here some month or two
	Before you venture for me. I could teach you
	How to choose right, but I am then forsworn;
	So will I never be: so may you miss me;
	But if you do, you'll make me wish a sin,
	That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes,
	They have o'erlook'd me and divided me;
	One half of me is yours, the other half yours,
	Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours,
	And so all yours. O, these naughty times
	Put bars between the owners and their rights!
	And so, though yours, not yours. Prove it so,
	Let fortune go to hell for it, not I.
	I speak too long; but 'tis to peize the time,
	To eke it and to draw it out in length,
	To stay you from election.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	Let me choose
	For as I am, I live upon the rack.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Upon the rack, Bassanio! then confess
	What treason there is mingled with your love.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	None but that ugly treason of mistrust,
	Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love:
	There may as well be amity and life
	'Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Ay, but I fear you speak upon the rack,
	Where men enforced do speak anything.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	Promise me life, and I'll confess the truth.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Well then, confess and live.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	'Confess' and 'love'
	Had been the very sum of my confession:
	O happy torment, when my torturer
	Doth teach me answers for deliverance!
	But let me to my fortune and the caskets.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Away, then! I am lock'd in one of them:
	If you do love me, you will find me out.
	Nerissa and the rest, stand all aloof.
	Let music sound while he doth make his choice;
	Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end,
	Fading in music: that the comparison
	May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream
	And watery death-bed for him. He may win;
	And what is music then? Then music is
	Even as the flourish when true subjects bow
	To a new-crowned monarch: such it is
	As are those dulcet sounds in break of day
	That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear,
	And summon him to marriage. Now he goes,
	With no less presence, but with much more love,
	Than young Alcides, when he did redeem
	The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy
	To the sea-monster: I stand for sacrifice
	The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives,
	With bleared visages, come forth to view
	The issue of the exploit. Go, Hercules!
	Live thou, I live: with much, much more dismay
	I view the fight than thou that makest the fray.

	[Music, whilst BASSANIO comments on the caskets to himself]
	
	SONG.
	Tell me where is fancy bred,
	Or in the heart, or in the head?
	How begot, how nourished?
	Reply, reply.
	It is engender'd in the eyes,
	With gazing fed; and fancy dies
	In the cradle where it lies.
	Let us all ring fancy's knell
	I'll begin it,--Ding, dong, bell.

ALL	Ding, dong, bell.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	So may the outward shows be least themselves:
	The world is still deceived with ornament.
	In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt,
	But, being seasoned with a gracious voice,
	Obscures the show of evil? In religion,
	What damned error, but some sober brow
	Will bless it and approve it with a text,
	Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?
	There is no vice so simple but assumes
	Some mark of virtue on his outward parts:
	How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false
	As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins
	The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars;
	Who, inward search'd, have livers white as milk;
	And these assume but valour's excrement
	To render them redoubted! Look on beauty,
	And you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight;
	Which therein works a miracle in nature,
	Making them lightest that wear most of it:
	So are those crisped snaky golden locks
	Which make such wanton gambols with the wind,
	Upon supposed fairness, often known
	To be the dowry of a second head,
	The skull that bred them in the sepulchre.
	Thus ornament is but the guiled shore
	To a most dangerous sea; the beauteous scarf
	Veiling an Indian beauty; in a word,
	The seeming truth which cunning times put on
	To entrap the wisest. Therefore, thou gaudy gold,
	Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee;
	Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge
	'Tween man and man: but thou, thou meagre lead,
	Which rather threatenest than dost promise aught,
	Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence;
	And here choose I; joy be the consequence!

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	[Aside]  How all the other passions fleet to air,
	As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embraced despair,
	And shuddering fear, and green-eyed jealousy! O love,
	Be moderate; allay thy ecstasy,
	In measure rein thy joy; scant this excess.
	I feel too much thy blessing: make it less,
	For fear I surfeit.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	What find I here?

	[Opening the leaden casket]

	Fair Portia's counterfeit! What demi-god
	Hath come so near creation? Move these eyes?
	Or whether, riding on the balls of mine,
	Seem they in motion? Here are sever'd lips,
	Parted with sugar breath: so sweet a bar
	Should sunder such sweet friends. Here in her hairs
	The painter plays the spider and hath woven
	A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men,
	Faster than gnats in cobwebs; but her eyes,--
	How could he see to do them? having made one,
	Methinks it should have power to steal both his
	And leave itself unfurnish'd. Yet look, how far
	The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow
	In underprizing it, so far this shadow
	Doth limp behind the substance. Here's the scroll,
	The continent and summary of my fortune.

	[Reads]

	You that choose not by the view,
	Chance as fair and choose as true!
	Since this fortune falls to you,
	Be content and seek no new,
	If you be well pleased with this
	And hold your fortune for your bliss,
	Turn you where your lady is
	And claim her with a loving kiss.
	A gentle scroll. Fair lady, by your leave;
	I come by note, to give and to receive.
	Like one of two contending in a prize,
	That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes,
	Hearing applause and universal shout,
	Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt
	Whether these pearls of praise be his or no;
	So, thrice fair lady, stand I, even so;
	As doubtful whether what I see be true,
	Until confirm'd, sign'd, ratified by you.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand,
	Such as I am: though for myself alone
	I would not be ambitious in my wish,
	To wish myself much better; yet, for you
	I would be trebled twenty times myself;
	A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more rich;
	That only to stand high in your account,
	I might in virtue, beauties, livings, friends,
	Exceed account; but the full sum of me
	Is sum of something, which, to term in gross,
	Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractised;
	Happy in this, she is not yet so old
	But she may learn; happier than this,
	She is not bred so dull but she can learn;
	Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit
	Commits itself to yours to be directed,
	As from her lord, her governor, her king.
	Myself and what is mine to you and yours
	Is now converted: but now I was the lord
	Of this fair mansion, master of my servants,
	Queen o'er myself: and even now, but now,
	This house, these servants and this same myself
	Are yours, my lord: I give them with this ring;
	Which when you part from, lose, or give away,
	Let it presage the ruin of your love
	And be my vantage to exclaim on you.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	Madam, you have bereft me of all words,
	Only my blood speaks to you in my veins;
	And there is such confusion in my powers,
	As after some oration fairly spoke
	By a beloved prince, there doth appear
	Among the buzzing pleased multitude;
	Where every something, being blent together,
	Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy,
	Express'd and not express'd. But when this ring
	Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence:
	O, then be bold to say Bassanio's dead!

<speaker>NERISSA</speaker>	My lord and lady, it is now our time,
	That have stood by and seen our wishes prosper,
	To cry, good joy: good joy, my lord and lady!

<speaker>GRATIANO</speaker>	My lord Bassanio and my gentle lady,
	I wish you all the joy that you can wish;
	For I am sure you can wish none from me:
	And when your honours mean to solemnize
	The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you,
	Even at that time I may be married too.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife.

<speaker>GRATIANO</speaker>	I thank your lordship, you have got me one.
	My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours:
	You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid;
	You loved, I loved for intermission.
	No more pertains to me, my lord, than you.
	Your fortune stood upon the casket there,
	And so did mine too, as the matter falls;
	For wooing here until I sweat again,
	And sweating until my very roof was dry
	With oaths of love, at last, if promise last,
	I got a promise of this fair one here
	To have her love, provided that your fortune
	Achieved her mistress.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Is this true, Nerissa?

<speaker>NERISSA</speaker>	Madam, it is, so you stand pleased withal.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith?

<speaker>GRATIANO</speaker>	Yes, faith, my lord.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	Our feast shall be much honour'd in your marriage.

<speaker>GRATIANO</speaker>	We'll play with them the first boy for a thousand ducats.

<speaker>NERISSA</speaker>	What, and stake down?

<speaker>GRATIANO</speaker>	No; we shall ne'er win at that sport, and stake down.
	But who comes here? Lorenzo and his infidel? What,
	and my old Venetian friend Salerio?

	[Enter LORENZO, JESSICA, and SALERIO, a Messenger
	from Venice]

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hither;
	If that the youth of my new interest here
	Have power to bid you welcome. By your leave,
	I bid my very friends and countrymen,
	Sweet Portia, welcome.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	So do I, my lord:
	They are entirely welcome.

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	I thank your honour. For my part, my lord,
	My purpose was not to have seen you here;
	But meeting with Salerio by the way,
	He did entreat me, past all saying nay,
	To come with him along.

<speaker>SALERIO</speaker>	I did, my lord;
	And I have reason for it. Signior Antonio
	Commends him to you.

	[Gives Bassanio a letter]

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	Ere I ope his letter,
	I pray you, tell me how my good friend doth.

<speaker>SALERIO</speaker>	Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind;
	Nor well, unless in mind: his letter there
	Will show you his estate.

<speaker>GRATIANO</speaker>	Nerissa, cheer yon stranger; bid her welcome.
	Your hand, Salerio: what's the news from Venice?
	How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio?
	I know he will be glad of our success;
	We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece.

<speaker>SALERIO</speaker>	I would you had won the fleece that he hath lost.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	There are some shrewd contents in yon same paper,
	That steals the colour from Bassanio's cheek:
	Some dear friend dead; else nothing in the world
	Could turn so much the constitution
	Of any constant man. What, worse and worse!
	With leave, Bassanio: I am half yourself,
	And I must freely have the half of anything
	That this same paper brings you.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	O sweet Portia,
	Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words
	That ever blotted paper! Gentle lady,
	When I did first impart my love to you,
	I freely told you, all the wealth I had
	Ran in my veins, I was a gentleman;
	And then I told you true: and yet, dear lady,
	Rating myself at nothing, you shall see
	How much I was a braggart. When I told you
	My state was nothing, I should then have told you
	That I was worse than nothing; for, indeed,
	I have engaged myself to a dear friend,
	Engaged my friend to his mere enemy,
	To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady;
	The paper as the body of my friend,
	And every word in it a gaping wound,
	Issuing life-blood. But is it true, Salerio?
	Have all his ventures fail'd? What, not one hit?
	From Tripolis, from Mexico and England,
	From Lisbon, Barbary and India?
	And not one vessel 'scape the dreadful touch
	Of merchant-marring rocks?

<speaker>SALERIO</speaker>	Not one, my lord.
	Besides, it should appear, that if he had
	The present money to discharge the Jew,
	He would not take it. Never did I know
	A creature, that did bear the shape of man,
	So keen and greedy to confound a man:
	He plies the duke at morning and at night,
	And doth impeach the freedom of the state,
	If they deny him justice: twenty merchants,
	The duke himself, and the magnificoes
	Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him;
	But none can drive him from the envious plea
	Of forfeiture, of justice and his bond.

<speaker>JESSICA</speaker>	When I was with him I have heard him swear
	To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen,
	That he would rather have Antonio's flesh
	Than twenty times the value of the sum
	That he did owe him: and I know, my lord,
	If law, authority and power deny not,
	It will go hard with poor Antonio.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble?

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	The dearest friend to me, the kindest man,
	The best-condition'd and unwearied spirit
	In doing courtesies, and one in whom
	The ancient Roman honour more appears
	Than any that draws breath in Italy.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	What sum owes he the Jew?

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	For me three thousand ducats.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	What, no more?
	Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond;
	Double six thousand, and then treble that,
	Before a friend of this description
	Shall lose a hair through Bassanio's fault.
	First go with me to church and call me wife,
	And then away to Venice to your friend;
	For never shall you lie by Portia's side
	With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold
	To pay the petty debt twenty times over:
	When it is paid, bring your true friend along.
	My maid Nerissa and myself meantime
	Will live as maids and widows. Come, away!
	For you shall hence upon your wedding-day:
	Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer:
	Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear.
	But let me hear the letter of your friend.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	[Reads]  Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all
	miscarried, my creditors grow cruel, my estate is
	very low, my bond to the Jew is forfeit; and since
	in paying it, it is impossible I should live, all
	debts are cleared between you and I, if I might but
	see you at my death. Notwithstanding, use your
	pleasure: if your love do not persuade you to come,
	let not my letter.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	O love, dispatch all business, and be gone!

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	Since I have your good leave to go away,
	I will make haste: but, till I come again,
	No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay,
	No rest be interposer 'twixt us twain.

	[Exeunt]

	THE MERCHANT OF VENICE


</DOC>
<DOC>
<DOCNO>SHK-MOV-III-III</DOCNO>
<title>ACT III

SCENE III	Venice. A street.</title>

	[Enter SHYLOCK, SALARINO, ANTONIO, and Gaoler]

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	Gaoler, look to him: tell not me of mercy;
	This is the fool that lent out money gratis:
	Gaoler, look to him.

<speaker>ANTONIO</speaker>	Hear me yet, good Shylock.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	I'll have my bond; speak not against my bond:
	I have sworn an oath that I will have my bond.
	Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a cause;
	But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs:
	The duke shall grant me justice. I do wonder,
	Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond
	To come abroad with him at his request.

<speaker>ANTONIO</speaker>	I pray thee, hear me speak.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	I'll have my bond; I will not hear thee speak:
	I'll have my bond; and therefore speak no more.
	I'll not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool,
	To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield
	To Christian intercessors. Follow not;
	I'll have no speaking: I will have my bond.

	[Exit]

<speaker>SALARINO</speaker>	It is the most impenetrable cur
	That ever kept with men.

<speaker>ANTONIO</speaker>	Let him alone:
	I'll follow him no more with bootless prayers.
	He seeks my life; his reason well I know:
	I oft deliver'd from his forfeitures
	Many that have at times made moan to me;
	Therefore he hates me.

<speaker>SALARINO</speaker>	I am sure the duke
	Will never grant this forfeiture to hold.

<speaker>ANTONIO</speaker>	The duke cannot deny the course of law:
	For the commodity that strangers have
	With us in Venice, if it be denied,
	Will much impeach the justice of his state;
	Since that the trade and profit of the city
	Consisteth of all nations. Therefore, go:
	These griefs and losses have so bated me,
	That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh
	To-morrow to my bloody creditor.
	Well, gaoler, on. Pray God, Bassanio come
	To see me pay his debt, and then I care not!

	[Exeunt]

	THE MERCHANT OF VENICE


</DOC>
<DOC>
<DOCNO>SHK-MOV-III-IV</DOCNO>
<title>ACT III

SCENE IV	Belmont. A room in PORTIA'S house.</title>

	[Enter PORTIA, NERISSA, LORENZO, JESSICA, and
	BALTHASAR]

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	Madam, although I speak it in your presence,
	You have a noble and a true conceit
	Of godlike amity; which appears most strongly
	In bearing thus the absence of your lord.
	But if you knew to whom you show this honour,
	How true a gentleman you send relief,
	How dear a lover of my lord your husband,
	I know you would be prouder of the work
	Than customary bounty can enforce you.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	I never did repent for doing good,
	Nor shall not now: for in companions
	That do converse and waste the time together,
	Whose souls do bear an equal yoke Of love,
	There must be needs a like proportion
	Of lineaments, of manners and of spirit;
	Which makes me think that this Antonio,
	Being the bosom lover of my lord,
	Must needs be like my lord. If it be so,
	How little is the cost I have bestow'd
	In purchasing the semblance of my soul
	From out the state of hellish misery!
	This comes too near the praising of myself;
	Therefore no more of it: hear other things.
	Lorenzo, I commit into your hands
	The husbandry and manage of my house
	Until my lord's return: for mine own part,
	I have toward heaven breathed a secret vow
	To live in prayer and contemplation,
	Only attended by Nerissa here,
	Until her husband and my lord's return:
	There is a monastery two miles off;
	And there will we abide. I do desire you
	Not to deny this imposition;
	The which my love and some necessity
	Now lays upon you.

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	                  Madam, with all my heart;
	I shall obey you in all fair commands.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	My people do already know my mind,
	And will acknowledge you and Jessica
	In place of Lord Bassanio and myself.
	And so farewell, till we shall meet again.

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you!

<speaker>JESSICA</speaker>	I wish your ladyship all heart's content.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	I thank you for your wish, and am well pleased
	To wish it back on you: fare you well Jessica.

	[Exeunt JESSICA and LORENZO]

	Now, Balthasar,
	As I have ever found thee honest-true,
	So let me find thee still. Take this same letter,
	And use thou all the endeavour of a man
	In speed to Padua: see thou render this
	Into my cousin's hand, Doctor Bellario;
	And, look, what notes and garments he doth give thee,
	Bring them, I pray thee, with imagined speed
	Unto the tranect, to the common ferry
	Which trades to Venice. Waste no time in words,
	But get thee gone: I shall be there before thee.

BALTHASAR	Madam, I go with all convenient speed.

	[Exit]

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Come on, Nerissa; I have work in hand
	That you yet know not of: we'll see our husbands
	Before they think of us.

<speaker>NERISSA</speaker>	Shall they see us?

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	They shall, Nerissa; but in such a habit,
	That they shall think we are accomplished
	With that we lack. I'll hold thee any wager,
	When we are both accoutred like young men,
	I'll prove the prettier fellow of the two,
	And wear my dagger with the braver grace,
	And speak between the change of man and boy
	With a reed voice, and turn two mincing steps
	Into a manly stride, and speak of frays
	Like a fine bragging youth, and tell quaint lies,
	How honourable ladies sought my love,
	Which I denying, they fell sick and died;
	I could not do withal; then I'll repent,
	And wish for all that, that I had not killed them;
	And twenty of these puny lies I'll tell,
	That men shall swear I have discontinued school
	Above a twelvemonth. I have within my mind
	A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks,
	Which I will practise.

<speaker>NERISSA</speaker>	Why, shall we turn to men?

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Fie, what a question's that,
	If thou wert near a lewd interpreter!
	But come, I'll tell thee all my whole device
	When I am in my coach, which stays for us
	At the park gate; and therefore haste away,
	For we must measure twenty miles to-day.

	[Exeunt]

	THE MERCHANT OF VENICE


</DOC>
<DOC>
<DOCNO>SHK-MOV-III-V</DOCNO>
<title>ACT III

SCENE V	The same. A garden.</title>

	[Enter LAUNCELOT and JESSICA]

<speaker>LAUNCELOT</speaker>	Yes, truly; for, look you, the sins of the father
	are to be laid upon the children: therefore, I
	promise ye, I fear you. I was always plain with
	you, and so now I speak my agitation of the matter:
	therefore be of good cheer, for truly I think you
	are damned. There is but one hope in it that can do
	you any good; and that is but a kind of bastard
	hope neither.

<speaker>JESSICA</speaker>	And what hope is that, I pray thee?

<speaker>LAUNCELOT</speaker>	Marry, you may partly hope that your father got you
	not, that you are not the Jew's daughter.

<speaker>JESSICA</speaker>	That were a kind of bastard hope, indeed: so the
	sins of my mother should be visited upon me.

<speaker>LAUNCELOT</speaker>	Truly then I fear you are damned both by father and
	mother: thus when I shun Scylla, your father, I
	fall into Charybdis, your mother: well, you are
	gone both ways.

<speaker>JESSICA</speaker>	I shall be saved by my husband; he hath made me a
	Christian.

<speaker>LAUNCELOT</speaker>	Truly, the more to blame he: we were Christians
	enow before; e'en as many as could well live, one by
	another. This making Christians will raise the
	price of hogs: if we grow all to be pork-eaters, we
	shall not shortly have a rasher on the coals for money.

	[Enter LORENZO]

<speaker>JESSICA</speaker>	I'll tell my husband, Launcelot, what you say: here he comes.

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	I shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launcelot, if
	you thus get my wife into corners.

<speaker>JESSICA</speaker>	Nay, you need not fear us, Lorenzo: Launcelot and I
	are out. He tells me flatly, there is no mercy for
	me in heaven, because I am a Jew's daughter: and he
	says, you are no good member of the commonwealth,
	for in converting Jews to Christians, you raise the
	price of pork.

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	I shall answer that better to the commonwealth than
	you can the getting up of the negro's belly: the
	Moor is with child by you, Launcelot.

<speaker>LAUNCELOT</speaker>	It is much that the Moor should be more than reason:
	but if she be less than an honest woman, she is
	indeed more than I took her for.

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	How every fool can play upon the word! I think the
	best grace of wit will shortly turn into silence,
	and discourse grow commendable in none only but
	parrots. Go in, sirrah; bid them prepare for dinner.

<speaker>LAUNCELOT</speaker>	That is done, sir; they have all stomachs.

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	Goodly Lord, what a wit-snapper are you! then bid
	them prepare dinner.

<speaker>LAUNCELOT</speaker>	That is done too, sir; only 'cover' is the word.

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	Will you cover then, sir?

<speaker>LAUNCELOT</speaker>	Not so, sir, neither; I know my duty.

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	Yet more quarrelling with occasion! Wilt thou show
	the whole wealth of thy wit in an instant? I pray
	tree, understand a plain man in his plain meaning:
	go to thy fellows; bid them cover the table, serve
	in the meat, and we will come in to dinner.

<speaker>LAUNCELOT</speaker>	For the table, sir, it shall be served in; for the
	meat, sir, it shall be covered; for your coming in
	to dinner, sir, why, let it be as humours and
	conceits shall govern.

	[Exit]

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	O dear discretion, how his words are suited!
	The fool hath planted in his memory
	An army of good words; and I do know
	A many fools, that stand in better place,
	Garnish'd like him, that for a tricksy word
	Defy the matter. How cheerest thou, Jessica?
	And now, good sweet, say thy opinion,
	How dost thou like the Lord Bassanio's wife?

<speaker>JESSICA</speaker>	Past all expressing. It is very meet
	The Lord Bassanio live an upright life;
	For, having such a blessing in his lady,
	He finds the joys of heaven here on earth;
	And if on earth he do not mean it, then
	In reason he should never come to heaven
	Why, if two gods should play some heavenly match
	And on the wager lay two earthly women,
	And Portia one, there must be something else
	Pawn'd with the other, for the poor rude world
	Hath not her fellow.

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	Even such a husband
	Hast thou of me as she is for a wife.

<speaker>JESSICA</speaker>	Nay, but ask my opinion too of that.

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	I will anon: first, let us go to dinner.

<speaker>JESSICA</speaker>	Nay, let me praise you while I have a stomach.

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	No, pray thee, let it serve for table-talk;
'	Then, howso'er thou speak'st, 'mong other things
	I shall digest it.

<speaker>JESSICA</speaker>	                  Well, I'll set you forth.

	[Exeunt]

	THE MERCHANT OF VENICE


</DOC>
<DOC>
<DOCNO>SHK-MOV-IV-I</DOCNO>
<title>ACT IV

SCENE I	Venice. A court of justice.</title>

	[Enter the DUKE, the Magnificoes, ANTONIO, BASSANIO,
	GRATIANO, SALERIO, and others]

DUKE	What, is Antonio here?

<speaker>ANTONIO</speaker>	Ready, so please your grace.

DUKE	I am sorry for thee: thou art come to answer
	A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch
	uncapable of pity, void and empty
	From any dram of mercy.

<speaker>ANTONIO</speaker>	I have heard
	Your grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify
	His rigorous course; but since he stands obdurate
	And that no lawful means can carry me
	Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose
	My patience to his fury, and am arm'd
	To suffer, with a quietness of spirit,
	The very tyranny and rage of his.

DUKE	Go one, and call the Jew into the court.

<speaker>SALERIO</speaker>	He is ready at the door: he comes, my lord.

	[Enter SHYLOCK]

DUKE	Make room, and let him stand before our face.
	Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too,
	That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy malice
	To the last hour of act; and then 'tis thought
	Thou'lt show thy mercy and remorse more strange
	Than is thy strange apparent cruelty;
	And where thou now exact'st the penalty,
	Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh,
	Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture,
	But, touch'd with human gentleness and love,
	Forgive a moiety of the principal;
	Glancing an eye of pity on his losses,
	That have of late so huddled on his back,
	Enow to press a royal merchant down
	And pluck commiseration of his state
	From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint,
	From stubborn Turks and Tartars, never train'd
	To offices of tender courtesy.
	We all expect a gentle answer, Jew.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	I have possess'd your grace of what I purpose;
	And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn
	To have the due and forfeit of my bond:
	If you deny it, let the danger light
	Upon your charter and your city's freedom.
	You'll ask me, why I rather choose to have
	A weight of carrion flesh than to receive
	Three thousand ducats: I'll not answer that:
	But, say, it is my humour: is it answer'd?
	What if my house be troubled with a rat
	And I be pleased to give ten thousand ducats
	To have it baned? What, are you answer'd yet?
	Some men there are love not a gaping pig;
	Some, that are mad if they behold a cat;
	And others, when the bagpipe sings i' the nose,
	Cannot contain their urine: for affection,
	Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood
	Of what it likes or loathes. Now, for your answer:
	As there is no firm reason to be render'd,
	Why he cannot abide a gaping pig;
	Why he, a harmless necessary cat;
	Why he, a woollen bagpipe; but of force
	Must yield to such inevitable shame
	As to offend, himself being offended;
	So can I give no reason, nor I will not,
	More than a lodged hate and a certain loathing
	I bear Antonio, that I follow thus
	A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd?

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	This is no answer, thou unfeeling man,
	To excuse the current of thy cruelty.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	I am not bound to please thee with my answers.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	Do all men kill the things they do not love?

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	Hates any man the thing he would not kill?

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	Every offence is not a hate at first.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee twice?

<speaker>ANTONIO</speaker>	I pray you, think you question with the Jew:
	You may as well go stand upon the beach
	And bid the main flood bate his usual height;
	You may as well use question with the wolf
	Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb;
	You may as well forbid the mountain pines
	To wag their high tops and to make no noise,
	When they are fretten with the gusts of heaven;
	You may as well do anything most hard,
	As seek to soften that--than which what's harder?--
	His Jewish heart: therefore, I do beseech you,
	Make no more offers, use no farther means,
	But with all brief and plain conveniency
	Let me have judgment and the Jew his will.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	For thy three thousand ducats here is six.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	What judgment shall I dread, doing
	Were in six parts and every part a ducat,
	I would not draw them; I would have my bond.

DUKE	How shalt thou hope for mercy, rendering none?

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	What judgment shall I dread, doing no wrong?
	You have among you many a purchased slave,
	Which, like your asses and your dogs and mules,
	You use in abject and in slavish parts,
	Because you bought them: shall I say to you,
	Let them be free, marry them to your heirs?
	Why sweat they under burthens? let their beds
	Be made as soft as yours and let their palates
	Be season'd with such viands? You will answer
	'The slaves are ours:' so do I answer you:
	The pound of flesh, which I demand of him,
	Is dearly bought; 'tis mine and I will have it.
	If you deny me, fie upon your law!
	There is no force in the decrees of Venice.
	I stand for judgment: answer; shall I have it?

DUKE	Upon my power I may dismiss this court,
	Unless Bellario, a learned doctor,
	Whom I have sent for to determine this,
	Come here to-day.

<speaker>SALERIO</speaker>	                  My lord, here stays without
	A messenger with letters from the doctor,
	New come from Padua.

DUKE	Bring us the letter; call the messenger.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	Good cheer, Antonio! What, man, courage yet!
	The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones and all,
	Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood.

<speaker>ANTONIO</speaker>	I am a tainted wether of the flock,
	Meetest for death: the weakest kind of fruit
	Drops earliest to the ground; and so let me
	You cannot better be employ'd, Bassanio,
	Than to live still and write mine epitaph.

	[Enter NERISSA, dressed like a lawyer's clerk]

DUKE	Came you from Padua, from Bellario?

<speaker>NERISSA</speaker>	From both, my lord. Bellario greets your grace.

	[Presenting a letter]

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly?

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there.

<speaker>GRATIANO</speaker>	Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew,
	Thou makest thy knife keen; but no metal can,
	No, not the hangman's axe, bear half the keenness
	Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee?

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	No, none that thou hast wit enough to make.

<speaker>GRATIANO</speaker>	O, be thou damn'd, inexecrable dog!
	And for thy life let justice be accused.
	Thou almost makest me waver in my faith
	To hold opinion with Pythagoras,
	That souls of animals infuse themselves
	Into the trunks of men: thy currish spirit
	Govern'd a wolf, who, hang'd for human slaughter,
	Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet,
	And, whilst thou lay'st in thy unhallow'd dam,
	Infused itself in thee; for thy desires
	Are wolvish, bloody, starved and ravenous.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond,
	Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud:
	Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall
	To cureless ruin. I stand here for law.

DUKE	This letter from Bellario doth commend
	A young and learned doctor to our court.
	Where is he?

<speaker>NERISSA</speaker>	                  He attendeth here hard by,
	To know your answer, whether you'll admit him.

DUKE	With all my heart. Some three or four of you
	Go give him courteous conduct to this place.
	Meantime the court shall hear Bellario's letter.

Clerk	[Reads]

	Your grace shall understand that at the receipt of
	your letter I am very sick: but in the instant that
	your messenger came, in loving visitation was with
	me a young doctor of Rome; his name is Balthasar. I
	acquainted him with the cause in controversy between
	the Jew and Antonio the merchant: we turned o'er
	many books together: he is furnished with my
	opinion; which, bettered with his own learning, the
	greatness whereof I cannot enough commend, comes
	with him, at my importunity, to fill up your grace's
	request in my stead. I beseech you, let his lack of
	years be no impediment to let him lack a reverend
	estimation; for I never knew so young a body with so
	old a head. I leave him to your gracious
	acceptance, whose trial shall better publish his
	commendation.

DUKE	You hear the learn'd Bellario, what he writes:
	And here, I take it, is the doctor come.

	[Enter PORTIA, dressed like a doctor of laws]

	Give me your hand. Come you from old Bellario?

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	I did, my lord.

DUKE	                  You are welcome: take your place.
	Are you acquainted with the difference
	That holds this present question in the court?

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	I am informed thoroughly of the cause.
	Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew?

DUKE	Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Is your name Shylock?

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	Shylock is my name.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Of a strange nature is the suit you follow;
	Yet in such rule that the Venetian law
	Cannot impugn you as you do proceed.
	You stand within his danger, do you not?

<speaker>ANTONIO</speaker>	Ay, so he says.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	                  Do you confess the bond?

<speaker>ANTONIO</speaker>	I do.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	    Then must the Jew be merciful.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	On what compulsion must I? tell me that.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	The quality of mercy is not strain'd,
	It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
	Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;
	It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
	'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes
	The throned monarch better than his crown;
	His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
	The attribute to awe and majesty,
	Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
	But mercy is above this sceptred sway;
	It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,
	It is an attribute to God himself;
	And earthly power doth then show likest God's
	When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,
	Though justice be thy plea, consider this,
	That, in the course of justice, none of us
	Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;
	And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
	The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much
	To mitigate the justice of thy plea;
	Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice
	Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	My deeds upon my head! I crave the law,
	The penalty and forfeit of my bond.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Is he not able to discharge the money?

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	Yes, here I tender it for him in the court;
	Yea, twice the sum: if that will not suffice,
	I will be bound to pay it ten times o'er,
	On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart:
	If this will not suffice, it must appear
	That malice bears down truth. And I beseech you,
	Wrest once the law to your authority:
	To do a great right, do a little wrong,
	And curb this cruel devil of his will.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	It must not be; there is no power in Venice
	Can alter a decree established:
	'Twill be recorded for a precedent,
	And many an error by the same example
	Will rush into the state: it cannot be.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel!
	O wise young judge, how I do honour thee!

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	I pray you, let me look upon the bond.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	Here 'tis, most reverend doctor, here it is.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Shylock, there's thrice thy money offer'd thee.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven:
	Shall I lay perjury upon my soul?
	No, not for Venice.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Why, this bond is forfeit;
	And lawfully by this the Jew may claim
	A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off
	Nearest the merchant's heart. Be merciful:
	Take thrice thy money; bid me tear the bond.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	When it is paid according to the tenor.
	It doth appear you are a worthy judge;
	You know the law, your exposition
	Hath been most sound: I charge you by the law,
	Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar,
	Proceed to judgment: by my soul I swear
	There is no power in the tongue of man
	To alter me: I stay here on my bond.

<speaker>ANTONIO</speaker>	Most heartily I do beseech the court
	To give the judgment.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Why then, thus it is:
	You must prepare your bosom for his knife.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	O noble judge! O excellent young man!

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	For the intent and purpose of the law
	Hath full relation to the penalty,
	Which here appeareth due upon the bond.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	'Tis very true: O wise and upright judge!
	How much more elder art thou than thy looks!

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Therefore lay bare your bosom.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	Ay, his breast:
	So says the bond: doth it not, noble judge?
	'Nearest his heart:' those are the very words.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	It is so. Are there balance here to weigh
	The flesh?

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	         I have them ready.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge,
	To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	Is it so nominated in the bond?

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	It is not so express'd: but what of that?
	'Twere good you do so much for charity.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	I cannot find it; 'tis not in the bond.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	You, merchant, have you any thing to say?

<speaker>ANTONIO</speaker>	But little: I am arm'd and well prepared.
	Give me your hand, Bassanio: fare you well!
	Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you;
	For herein Fortune shows herself more kind
	Than is her custom: it is still her use
	To let the wretched man outlive his wealth,
	To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow
	An age of poverty; from which lingering penance
	Of such misery doth she cut me off.
	Commend me to your honourable wife:
	Tell her the process of Antonio's end;
	Say how I loved you, speak me fair in death;
	And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge
	Whether Bassanio had not once a love.
	Repent but you that you shall lose your friend,
	And he repents not that he pays your debt;
	For if the Jew do cut but deep enough,
	I'll pay it presently with all my heart.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	Antonio, I am married to a wife
	Which is as dear to me as life itself;
	But life itself, my wife, and all the world,
	Are not with me esteem'd above thy life:
	I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all
	Here to this devil, to deliver you.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Your wife would give you little thanks for that,
	If she were by, to hear you make the offer.

<speaker>GRATIANO</speaker>	I have a wife, whom, I protest, I love:
	I would she were in heaven, so she could
	Entreat some power to change this currish Jew.

<speaker>NERISSA</speaker>	'Tis well you offer it behind her back;
	The wish would make else an unquiet house.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	These be the Christian husbands. I have a daughter;
	Would any of the stock of Barrabas
	Had been her husband rather than a Christian!

	[Aside]

	We trifle time: I pray thee, pursue sentence.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine:
	The court awards it, and the law doth give it.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	Most rightful judge!

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	And you must cut this flesh from off his breast:
	The law allows it, and the court awards it.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	Most learned judge! A sentence! Come, prepare!

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Tarry a little; there is something else.
	This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood;
	The words expressly are 'a pound of flesh:'
	Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh;
	But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed
	One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods
	Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate
	Unto the state of Venice.

<speaker>GRATIANO</speaker>	O upright judge! Mark, Jew: O learned judge!

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	Is that the law?

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	                  Thyself shalt see the act:
	For, as thou urgest justice, be assured
	Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desirest.

<speaker>GRATIANO</speaker>	O learned judge! Mark, Jew: a learned judge!

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	I take this offer, then; pay the bond thrice
	And let the Christian go.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	Here is the money.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Soft!
	The Jew shall have all justice; soft! no haste:
	He shall have nothing but the penalty.

<speaker>GRATIANO</speaker>	O Jew! an upright judge, a learned judge!

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh.
	Shed thou no blood, nor cut thou less nor more
	But just a pound of flesh: if thou cut'st more
	Or less than a just pound, be it but so much
	As makes it light or heavy in the substance,
	Or the division of the twentieth part
	Of one poor scruple, nay, if the scale do turn
	But in the estimation of a hair,
	Thou diest and all thy goods are confiscate.

<speaker>GRATIANO</speaker>	A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew!
	Now, infidel, I have you on the hip.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Why doth the Jew pause? take thy forfeiture.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	Give me my principal, and let me go.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	I have it ready for thee; here it is.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	He hath refused it in the open court:
	He shall have merely justice and his bond.

<speaker>GRATIANO</speaker>	A Daniel, still say I, a second Daniel!
	I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	Shall I not have barely my principal?

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture,
	To be so taken at thy peril, Jew.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	Why, then the devil give him good of it!
	I'll stay no longer question.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Tarry, Jew:
	The law hath yet another hold on you.
	It is enacted in the laws of Venice,
	If it be proved against an alien
	That by direct or indirect attempts
	He seek the life of any citizen,
	The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive
	Shall seize one half his goods; the other half
	Comes to the privy coffer of the state;
	And the offender's life lies in the mercy
	Of the duke only, 'gainst all other voice.
	In which predicament, I say, thou stand'st;
	For it appears, by manifest proceeding,
	That indirectly and directly too
	Thou hast contrived against the very life
	Of the defendant; and thou hast incurr'd
	The danger formerly by me rehearsed.
	Down therefore and beg mercy of the duke.

<speaker>GRATIANO</speaker>	Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang thyself:
	And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state,
	Thou hast not left the value of a cord;
	Therefore thou must be hang'd at the state's charge.

DUKE	That thou shalt see the difference of our spirits,
	I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it:
	For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's;
	The other half comes to the general state,
	Which humbleness may drive unto a fine.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Ay, for the state, not for Antonio.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	Nay, take my life and all; pardon not that:
	You take my house when you do take the prop
	That doth sustain my house; you take my life
	When you do take the means whereby I live.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	What mercy can you render him, Antonio?

<speaker>GRATIANO</speaker>	A halter gratis; nothing else, for God's sake.

<speaker>ANTONIO</speaker>	So please my lord the duke and all the court
	To quit the fine for one half of his goods,
	I am content; so he will let me have
	The other half in use, to render it,
	Upon his death, unto the gentleman
	That lately stole his daughter:
	Two things provided more, that, for this favour,
	He presently become a Christian;
	The other, that he do record a gift,
	Here in the court, of all he dies possess'd,
	Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter.

DUKE	He shall do this, or else I do recant
	The pardon that I late pronounced here.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Art thou contented, Jew? what dost thou say?

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	I am content.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	                  Clerk, draw a deed of gift.

<speaker>SHYLOCK</speaker>	I pray you, give me leave to go from hence;
	I am not well: send the deed after me,
	And I will sign it.

DUKE	Get thee gone, but do it.

<speaker>GRATIANO</speaker>	In christening shalt thou have two god-fathers:
	Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten more,
	To bring thee to the gallows, not the font.

	[Exit SHYLOCK]

DUKE	Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	I humbly do desire your grace of pardon:
	I must away this night toward Padua,
	And it is meet I presently set forth.

DUKE	I am sorry that your leisure serves you not.
	Antonio, gratify this gentleman,
	For, in my mind, you are much bound to him.

	[Exeunt Duke and his train]

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend
	Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted
	Of grievous penalties; in lieu whereof,
	Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew,
	We freely cope your courteous pains withal.

<speaker>ANTONIO</speaker>	And stand indebted, over and above,
	In love and service to you evermore.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	He is well paid that is well satisfied;
	And I, delivering you, am satisfied
	And therein do account myself well paid:
	My mind was never yet more mercenary.
	I pray you, know me when we meet again:
	I wish you well, and so I take my leave.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further:
	Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute,
	Not as a fee: grant me two things, I pray you,
	Not to deny me, and to pardon me.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	You press me far, and therefore I will yield.

	[To ANTONIO]

	Give me your gloves, I'll wear them for your sake;

	[To BASSANIO]

	And, for your love, I'll take this ring from you:
	Do not draw back your hand; I'll take no more;
	And you in love shall not deny me this.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	This ring, good sir, alas, it is a trifle!
	I will not shame myself to give you this.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	I will have nothing else but only this;
	And now methinks I have a mind to it.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	There's more depends on this than on the value.
	The dearest ring in Venice will I give you,
	And find it out by proclamation:
	Only for this, I pray you, pardon me.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	I see, sir, you are liberal in offers
	You taught me first to beg; and now methinks
	You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife;
	And when she put it on, she made me vow
	That I should neither sell nor give nor lose it.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	That 'scuse serves many men to save their gifts.
	An if your wife be not a mad-woman,
	And know how well I have deserved the ring,
	She would not hold out enemy for ever,
	For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you!

	[Exeunt Portia and Nerissa]

<speaker>ANTONIO</speaker>	My Lord Bassanio, let him have the ring:
	Let his deservings and my love withal
	Be valued against your wife's commandment.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him;
	Give him the ring, and bring him, if thou canst,
	Unto Antonio's house: away! make haste.

	[Exit Gratiano]

	Come, you and I will thither presently;
	And in the morning early will we both
	Fly toward Belmont: come, Antonio.

	[Exeunt]

	THE MERCHANT OF VENICE


</DOC>
<DOC>
<DOCNO>SHK-MOV-IV-II</DOCNO>
<title>ACT IV

SCENE II	The same. A street.</title>

	[Enter PORTIA and NERISSA]

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Inquire the Jew's house out, give him this deed
	And let him sign it: we'll away to-night
	And be a day before our husbands home:
	This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo.

	[Enter GRATIANO]

<speaker>GRATIANO</speaker>	Fair sir, you are well o'erta'en
	My Lord Bassanio upon more advice
	Hath sent you here this ring, and doth entreat
	Your company at dinner.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	That cannot be:
	His ring I do accept most thankfully:
	And so, I pray you, tell him: furthermore,
	I pray you, show my youth old Shylock's house.

<speaker>GRATIANO</speaker>	That will I do.

<speaker>NERISSA</speaker>	                  Sir, I would speak with you.

	[Aside to PORTIA]

	I'll see if I can get my husband's ring,
	Which I did make him swear to keep for ever.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	[Aside to NERISSA]  Thou mayst, I warrant.
	We shall have old swearing
	That they did give the rings away to men;
	But we'll outface them, and outswear them too.

	[Aloud]

	Away! make haste: thou knowist where I will tarry.

<speaker>NERISSA</speaker>	Come, good sir, will you show me to this house?

	[Exeunt]

	THE MERCHANT OF VENICE


</DOC>
<DOC>
<DOCNO>SHK-MOV-V-I</DOCNO>
<title>ACT V

SCENE I	Belmont. Avenue to PORTIA'S house.</title>

	[Enter LORENZO and JESSICA]

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	The moon shines bright: in such a night as this,
	When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees
	And they did make no noise, in such a night
	Troilus methinks mounted the Troyan walls
	And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents,
	Where Cressid lay that night.

<speaker>JESSICA</speaker>	In such a night
	Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew
	And saw the lion's shadow ere himself
	And ran dismay'd away.

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	In such a night
	Stood Dido with a willow in her hand
	Upon the wild sea banks and waft her love
	To come again to Carthage.

<speaker>JESSICA</speaker>	In such a night
	Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs
	That did renew old AEson.

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	In such a night
	Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew
	And with an unthrift love did run from Venice
	As far as Belmont.

<speaker>JESSICA</speaker>	                  In such a night
	Did young Lorenzo swear he loved her well,
	Stealing her soul with many vows of faith
	And ne'er a true one.

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	In such a night
	Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew,
	Slander her love, and he forgave it her.

<speaker>JESSICA</speaker>	I would out-night you, did no body come;
	But, hark, I hear the footing of a man.

	[Enter STEPHANO]

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	Who comes so fast in silence of the night?

<speaker>STEPHANO</speaker>	A friend.

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	A friend! what friend? your name, I pray you, friend?

<speaker>STEPHANO</speaker>	Stephano is my name; and I bring word
	My mistress will before the break of day
	Be here at Belmont; she doth stray about
	By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays
	For happy wedlock hours.

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	Who comes with her?

<speaker>STEPHANO</speaker>	None but a holy hermit and her maid.
	I pray you, is my master yet return'd?

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	He is not, nor we have not heard from him.
	But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica,
	And ceremoniously let us prepare
	Some welcome for the mistress of the house.

	[Enter LAUNCELOT]

<speaker>LAUNCELOT</speaker>	Sola, sola! wo ha, ho! sola, sola!

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	Who calls?

<speaker>LAUNCELOT</speaker>	Sola! did you see Master Lorenzo?
	Master Lorenzo, sola, sola!

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	Leave hollaing, man: here.

<speaker>LAUNCELOT</speaker>	Sola! where? where?

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	Here.

<speaker>LAUNCELOT</speaker>	Tell him there's a post come from my master, with
	his horn full of good news: my master will be here
	ere morning.

	[Exit]

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect their coming.
	And yet no matter: why should we go in?
	My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you,
	Within the house, your mistress is at hand;
	And bring your music forth into the air.

	[Exit Stephano]

	How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
	Here will we sit and let the sounds of music
	Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night
	Become the touches of sweet harmony.
	Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven
	Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold:
	There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st
	But in his motion like an angel sings,
	Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins;
	Such harmony is in immortal souls;
	But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
	Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.

	[Enter Musicians]

	Come, ho! and wake Diana with a hymn!
	With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear,
	And draw her home with music.

	[Music]

<speaker>JESSICA</speaker>	I am never merry when I hear sweet music.

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	The reason is, your spirits are attentive:
	For do but note a wild and wanton herd,
	Or race of youthful and unhandled colts,
	Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud,
	Which is the hot condition of their blood;
	If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound,
	Or any air of music touch their ears,
	You shall perceive them make a mutual stand,
	Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze
	By the sweet power of music: therefore the poet
	Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and floods;
	Since nought so stockish, hard and full of rage,
	But music for the time doth change his nature.
	The man that hath no music in himself,
	Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
	Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils;
	The motions of his spirit are dull as night
	And his affections dark as Erebus:
	Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music.

	[Enter PORTIA and NERISSA]

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	That light we see is burning in my hall.
	How far that little candle throws his beams!
	So shines a good deed in a naughty world.

<speaker>NERISSA</speaker>	When the moon shone, we did not see the candle.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	So doth the greater glory dim the less:
	A substitute shines brightly as a king
	Unto the king be by, and then his state
	Empties itself, as doth an inland brook
	Into the main of waters. Music! hark!

<speaker>NERISSA</speaker>	It is your music, madam, of the house.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Nothing is good, I see, without respect:
	Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day.

<speaker>NERISSA</speaker>	Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark,
	When neither is attended, and I think
	The nightingale, if she should sing by day,
	When every goose is cackling, would be thought
	No better a musician than the wren.
	How many things by season season'd are
	To their right praise and true perfection!
	Peace, ho! the moon sleeps with Endymion
	And would not be awaked.

	[Music ceases]

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	That is the voice,
	Or I am much deceived, of Portia.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo,
	By the bad voice.

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	                  Dear lady, welcome home.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	We have been praying for our husbands' healths,
	Which speed, we hope, the better for our words.
	Are they return'd?

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	                  Madam, they are not yet;
	But there is come a messenger before,
	To signify their coming.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Go in, Nerissa;
	Give order to my servants that they take
	No note at all of our being absent hence;
	Nor you, Lorenzo; Jessica, nor you.

	[A tucket sounds]

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	Your husband is at hand; I hear his trumpet:
	We are no tell-tales, madam; fear you not.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	This night methinks is but the daylight sick;
	It looks a little paler: 'tis a day,
	Such as the day is when the sun is hid.

	[Enter BASSANIO, ANTONIO, GRATIANO, and
	their followers]

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	We should hold day with the Antipodes,
	If you would walk in absence of the sun.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Let me give light, but let me not be light;
	For a light wife doth make a heavy husband,
	And never be Bassanio so for me:
	But God sort all! You are welcome home, my lord.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	I thank you, madam. Give welcome to my friend.
	This is the man, this is Antonio,
	To whom I am so infinitely bound.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	You should in all sense be much bound to him.
	For, as I hear, he was much bound for you.

<speaker>ANTONIO</speaker>	No more than I am well acquitted of.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Sir, you are very welcome to our house:
	It must appear in other ways than words,
	Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy.

<speaker>GRATIANO</speaker>	[To NERISSA]  By yonder moon I swear you do me wrong;
	In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk:
	Would he were gelt that had it, for my part,
	Since you do take it, love, so much at heart.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	A quarrel, ho, already! what's the matter?

<speaker>GRATIANO</speaker>	About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring
	That she did give me, whose posy was
	For all the world like cutler's poetry
	Upon a knife, 'Love me, and leave me not.'

<speaker>NERISSA</speaker>	What talk you of the posy or the value?
	You swore to me, when I did give it you,
	That you would wear it till your hour of death
	And that it should lie with you in your grave:
	Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths,
	You should have been respective and have kept it.
	Gave it a judge's clerk! no, God's my judge,
	The clerk will ne'er wear hair on's face that had it.

<speaker>GRATIANO</speaker>	He will, an if he live to be a man.

<speaker>NERISSA</speaker>	Ay, if a woman live to be a man.

<speaker>GRATIANO</speaker>	Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth,
	A kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy,
	No higher than thyself; the judge's clerk,
	A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee:
	I could not for my heart deny it him.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	You were to blame, I must be plain with you,
	To part so slightly with your wife's first gift:
	A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger
	And so riveted with faith unto your flesh.
	I gave my love a ring and made him swear
	Never to part with it; and here he stands;
	I dare be sworn for him he would not leave it
	Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth
	That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano,
	You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief:
	An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	[Aside]  Why, I were best to cut my left hand off
	And swear I lost the ring defending it.

<speaker>GRATIANO</speaker>	My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away
	Unto the judge that begg'd it and indeed
	Deserved it too; and then the boy, his clerk,
	That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine;
	And neither man nor master would take aught
	But the two rings.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	What ring gave you my lord?
	Not that, I hope, which you received of me.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	If I could add a lie unto a fault,
	I would deny it; but you see my finger
	Hath not the ring upon it; it is gone.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Even so void is your false heart of truth.
	By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed
	Until I see the ring.

<speaker>NERISSA</speaker>	Nor I in yours
	Till I again see mine.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	Sweet Portia,
	If you did know to whom I gave the ring,
	If you did know for whom I gave the ring
	And would conceive for what I gave the ring
	And how unwillingly I left the ring,
	When nought would be accepted but the ring,
	You would abate the strength of your displeasure.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	If you had known the virtue of the ring,
	Or half her worthiness that gave the ring,
	Or your own honour to contain the ring,
	You would not then have parted with the ring.
	What man is there so much unreasonable,
	If you had pleased to have defended it
	With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty
	To urge the thing held as a ceremony?
	Nerissa teaches me what to believe:
	I'll die for't but some woman had the ring.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	No, by my honour, madam, by my soul,
	No woman had it, but a civil doctor,
	Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me
	And begg'd the ring; the which I did deny him
	And suffer'd him to go displeased away;
	Even he that did uphold the very life
	Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady?
	I was enforced to send it after him;
	I was beset with shame and courtesy;
	My honour would not let ingratitude
	So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady;
	For, by these blessed candles of the night,
	Had you been there, I think you would have begg'd
	The ring of me to give the worthy doctor.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Let not that doctor e'er come near my house:
	Since he hath got the jewel that I loved,
	And that which you did swear to keep for me,
	I will become as liberal as you;
	I'll not deny him any thing I have,
	No, not my body nor my husband's bed:
	Know him I shall, I am well sure of it:
	Lie not a night from home; watch me like Argus:
	If you do not, if I be left alone,
	Now, by mine honour, which is yet mine own,
	I'll have that doctor for my bedfellow.

<speaker>NERISSA</speaker>	And I his clerk; therefore be well advised
	How you do leave me to mine own protection.

<speaker>GRATIANO</speaker>	Well, do you so; let not me take him, then;
	For if I do, I'll mar the young clerk's pen.

<speaker>ANTONIO</speaker>	I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Sir, grieve not you; you are welcome notwithstanding.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong;
	And, in the hearing of these many friends,
	I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes,
	Wherein I see myself--

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Mark you but that!
	In both my eyes he doubly sees himself;
	In each eye, one: swear by your double self,
	And there's an oath of credit.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	Nay, but hear me:
	Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear
	I never more will break an oath with thee.

<speaker>ANTONIO</speaker>	I once did lend my body for his wealth;
	Which, but for him that had your husband's ring,
	Had quite miscarried: I dare be bound again,
	My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord
	Will never more break faith advisedly.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Then you shall be his surety. Give him this
	And bid him keep it better than the other.

<speaker>ANTONIO</speaker>	Here, Lord Bassanio; swear to keep this ring.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor!

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	I had it of him: pardon me, Bassanio;
	For, by this ring, the doctor lay with me.

<speaker>NERISSA</speaker>	And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano;
	For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk,
	In lieu of this last night did lie with me.

<speaker>GRATIANO</speaker>	Why, this is like the mending of highways
	In summer, where the ways are fair enough:
	What, are we cuckolds ere we have deserved it?

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	Speak not so grossly. You are all amazed:
	Here is a letter; read it at your leisure;
	It comes from Padua, from Bellario:
	There you shall find that Portia was the doctor,
	Nerissa there her clerk: Lorenzo here
	Shall witness I set forth as soon as you
	And even but now return'd; I have not yet
	Enter'd my house. Antonio, you are welcome;
	And I have better news in store for you
	Than you expect: unseal this letter soon;
	There you shall find three of your argosies
	Are richly come to harbour suddenly:
	You shall not know by what strange accident
	I chanced on this letter.

<speaker>ANTONIO</speaker>	I am dumb.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	Were you the doctor and I knew you not?

<speaker>GRATIANO</speaker>	Were you the clerk that is to make me cuckold?

<speaker>NERISSA</speaker>	Ay, but the clerk that never means to do it,
	Unless he live until he be a man.

<speaker>BASSANIO</speaker>	Sweet doctor, you shall be my bed-fellow:
	When I am absent, then lie with my wife.

<speaker>ANTONIO</speaker>	Sweet lady, you have given me life and living;
	For here I read for certain that my ships
	Are safely come to road.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	How now, Lorenzo!
	My clerk hath some good comforts too for you.

<speaker>NERISSA</speaker>	Ay, and I'll give them him without a fee.
	There do I give to you and Jessica,
	From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift,
	After his death, of all he dies possess'd of.

<speaker>LORENZO</speaker>	Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way
	Of starved people.

<speaker>PORTIA</speaker>	                  It is almost morning,
	And yet I am sure you are not satisfied
	Of these events at full. Let us go in;
	And charge us there upon inter'gatories,
	And we will answer all things faithfully.

<speaker>GRATIANO</speaker>	Let it be so: the first inter'gatory
	That my Nerissa shall be sworn on is,
	Whether till the next night she had rather stay,
	Or go to bed now, being two hours to day:
	But were the day come, I should wish it dark,
	That I were couching with the doctor's clerk.
	Well, while I live I'll fear no other thing
	So sore as keeping safe Nerissa's ring.

	[Exeunt]
</DOC>
